Howl
by Penlym
Summary: Having been betrayed by those closest to her, Dale, a werewolf, now has the task of discovering the fate of her fourth companion, changing the very identity of her race...and learning to trust again. The One Ring does not help matters. 10th walker fic. Rated T for safety. Eventual OC/?.
1. Woof

**Hi everyone! So it's been a year since I was last on here, and I have this exciting (I hope!) new story that has been on my mind for sometime now! It is a replacement for 'The Wolf and the Fellowship' and 'The Wolf in Rohan', which one reader said copied the films too much. I have now rethought the whole idea of werewolves in Middle Earth, and have come up with a new character and plot to fit in and around the films/books for a 13th walker fic. It is completely different to my previous attempts, and the previous stories will be discontinued.**

 **This is the story of Dale, who now has the task of finding the fourth companion, changing the very identity of her race...and learning to trust again. Enjoy!**

* * *

Her fingers fiddled with the sleeves of her tunic as she warily watched Lord Elrond take in her words. His face appeared to be as smooth as stone, but his eyes revealed a range of flickering emotions: first they were disbelieving and shocked, then they scrutinised her, looking at the skin he could see, as if searching for evidence. They were in his study. It was made up of a desk, a chair, shelves containing books, a window overlooking Rivendell; all distinctly elvish, yet there was an equally distinct sense of the owner's character. While she had been waiting for him to arrive—he had been busy with other business—she had busied herself by looking at the books. Some were on battle strategy, but there were also many on culture, the arts and languages. The desk was beautifully carved, with family heraldry carved into the panels, and the chair had a cushion that was permanently dented, the telling sign of someone who had spent many hours sitting in it.

Elrond sat in it now, a stern look on his face. "What you have told me is surprising indeed, Lady Dale. Why should I believe you?"

"I could show you if you wanted." A wry smile crept upon her face. "But I don't think you would appreciate the smell of wet dog."

She had just had a shower, and was now dressed in fine but simple elven clothing, her still-wet hair neatly plaited down her back.

He steepled his fingers and leant forward. Without her realising it, the sun had begun its descent, and streams of light filtered through from the top of the window, casting his eyes into dark shadow further emphasised by his furrowed brow. "I do not take kindly to being trifled with." His voice brooked no argument.

Dale sighed, tilting her chin up. "Very well." She took a chair, which had been placed against a wall, and placed it slightly to the side of his desk so that she didn't have to squint. She fidgeted for a second; it felt so strange, so _unnatural_ to do it like this, but she settled for placing her hands on her knees and leaning forward slightly. Dale allowed that half of her brain—which was always held so tightly in check— to eke out, to allow it some control. It began slowly at first, but then she began to tingle all over, and she could tell by Lord Elrond's shocked expression that her eyes, usually grey, had turned golden. She sucked in a breath. What had been controlled suddenly lashed out. Her hands gripped her knees as she squeezed her eyes shut. She growled, a low, guttural sound that rumbled through her body. For a second, she could smell the food Lord Elrond had eaten for lunch on his breath; the hum of voices in the corridors, in the streets below them. If she had concentrated, she might have heard the clatter of hooves as riders entered the Last Homely House. Her body prickled, her senses sung, and for a second she thought there was no going back.

She fought for control, her body squirming against the onslaught. Slowly, and desperately, she regained control, forcing that feral, unpredictable side of her back with an inevitable whine that racked her body.

When Dale opened her eyes again, Lord Elrond's hand held a sword that had somehow appeared on the table. It rest on the top, but his hand held it with a white grip. He nodded when he saw she had regained control, but the sword remained, his hold relaxing only slightly.

"Now I'm glad I did't have to deal with the smell of wet dog," he said, eyeing her warily.

Dale smiled ruefully, her body now feeling like it could collapse on the nearest bed. She shrugged a shoulder. "You asked for it."

"I did indeed." He re-sheathed the sword and placed it behind his desk. "I have heard of your people before, but we know very little about them."

"We are very reclusive. The stories say that there was once a time when man knew of my people's shapeshifting abilities and we were hunted for it. Whether they are true or not is another question."

He nodded in understanding and spoke slowly, seeming to choose his words carefully. "Do you lose control when you…change?"

"You mean do I turn into monster and start killing all the innocent people?" Dale raised an eyebrow, taking offence. He just stared right back at her and she nodded in acceptance. She heaved out a sigh. "No, once I have made the change—that is the _reen_ in my language—my mind is still human. But during the _reen_ , it is very difficult…it is hard to make a comparison, but it is like trying to give an animal a treat when a big meal is not much further away. They would rather stretch for the big meal than make do with a treat, and so they stretch. Usually they are stronger than you, so it is not always possible to hold them back."

The elf nodded slowly, digesting this information, and his were alight with questions when his eyes glanced down and saw my legs. He half-rose from his chair. "You're…"

Dale waved a hand. "I'm alright." Her hands, which had sharpened into claws as she struggled to reverse the _reen_ , had pierced clothing and flesh. Blood now stained her pale clothes. "My race have a rapid healing process that is part of our genes."

The pain was still sharp, but it had already begun to fade. Dale felt herself fading too, her tiredness beginning to take over, but she still needed to know. Her reason, her purpose for being at Rivendell. "I came to ask for your advice…and for any knowledge you might have. One of my companions went missing after the storm three nights past." Her breath hitched as her mind briefly returned to that fateful night, but forced herself to go on. "My other two companions…are no longer part of my company. I am now alone. I want to find the girl who is missing."

"And how do you think I will be able to help you with that?" He stared at her. Under his close scrutiny, Dale realised that this was a test. His eyes trained on every movement she made, before flicking back to see her expression again, and his words, spoken with such care, had a hidden purpose. Most people had never heard of the Ruénen—any whisper of a shapeshifting race was dealt with quickly—but it was not surprising that the elves knew of them. The Ruénen's secrecy meant that even the elves did not know much. They kept to hiding in plain sight in the realm of man, dispersed, a scattered people.

"With all due respect, my Lord, Elves are not exactly an unknown phenomenon. I know very little of your personal powers other than myth and rumour, but they have been enough to give me hope that you might be able to help me." The elf continued to look at her, distrust evident in his gaze. Some of her desperation slipped into her voice. "Please…it is a matter of some urgency."

Dale thought back to three nights ago. She had returned early from gathering supplies, having found a nearby town so desperate for coin that they would have sold their children, hoping that the fire Callon and Rine had made would ease the heaviness of her heart. She retraced her steps towards the camp, but as she grew closer she realised that there was no light or smoke—there was no fire. Out of natural instinct she had moved downwind from the camp, persuading herself not to shift as it was probably due to humans being around that Callon and Rine had not made camp. Still, the warning in her gut gnawed at her. The trees about her grew thicker as she proceeded, relying on her keen sense of smell to guide her to where Callon and Rine were. She half-ducked as she jogged forward. She had discarded her pack to pick up later.

She slammed to a halt and darted behind a tree. A gust of wind had blown in her direction. Something worse than humans was near. Her nostrils burnt with the acrid smell of orc. Dale forced herself to take another deep breath. None were nearby; she started forward again, albeit more slowly. As she drew nearer to the boys' position, the sound of voices grew louder. She frowned. Perhaps if she had paid more attention, she might have picked up on the distinct lack of the smell of fear, but as it was she was fearful for the two Ruénen. A small orc horde was somewhere ahead of her. As she drew nearer, she made out a guttural voice. Praying the wind wouldn't change, Dale slipped behind a tree at the edge of a clearing and crouched. She peered through the bushes.

It was dark—the moon had clouded over—but although her eyes were not as sharp as her nose, she could just make out the outline of Callon's muscular frame, and to his right she could see Rine's ridiculous boots. They were more ornately decorated than the halls of Erebor, and she hated to think where he had got them from.

"My master will be pleased to hear the words you bring me." Dale stilled as the guttural voice grated against her ears. Her face paled.

"And we are always pleased to serve the Great Lord." Callon replied.

From her hiding place, Dale saw Rine's boots shift. "Very pleased." He held out a hand expectantly, "Especially when he rewards the faithful so well."

The orc chuckled, and said something in another language. There was a rattle of coins and a clinking noise. Callon responded in kind, the words, although guttural, smoothly flowing out of his mouth.

A leaf tickled Dale's noise and she covered it, trying to calm her beating heart as too many thoughts catapulted through her head to be able to identify at once. She felt ill. She forced herself to focus.

"This is less than we agreed," Rine growled.

In the numbness of shock, Dale felt a cold fury overcome her. It stilled her thoughts, even as her breathing hitched.

"What was that?" Callon demanded sharply. He had been facing away from her, but now he spun around, his eyes scanning the darkness. Dale ducked lower. He began wandering round the edge of the clearing.

"More will come when further services are rendered," the orc replied, ignoring Callon's fidgeting. He slowly made his way closer to Dale, sniffing the air and peering into the darkness. For a dreadful moment, she thought his dark eyes, which had once looked at hers so softly, would find hers glinting in the darkness.

"Callon!" Rine said sharply. The orcs, of which she counted three in the clearing, had grown wary at Callon's unrest.

He returned to the group, and Dale saw Rine mutter something in his ear. Callon nodded crisply, and turned to the orcs. "Let's finish dealings quickly."

They continued their discussions, and Dale's legs began to burn with the effort of crouching for so long. The feeling of betrayal ate at her, but she refused to let it overwhelm her, lest Callon or Rine, or the orcs, should pick up on its scent. Instead, she focused on her surroundings, on the fifty or so orcs that rested somewhere beyond this clearing; on the caterpillar that inched its way along the leaf by her ear.

"One more thing," the orc creaked. She snapped back to attention. "My Master seeks something that is of greatly value to him…it is but a trinket, but a small ring. If you should here of it, you must make contact."

Once more that day Dale froze and her mind drew a blank. It couldn't be…

Callon and Rine glanced at each other. They were not stupid, of course they knew what the orc's words had meant. They looked back at the orc.

"Of course," Rine replied smoothly.

The two companies departed, and for an awful moment Dale thought she would be trapped. Then the boys began heading back to the camp. The woman followed them at a distance, careful to beware of where the orcs went and to stay downwind of Callon and Rine.

They loped back in silence, and began hurriedly setting up camp. They had been aware that she would be back soon.

Dale watched them. For a moment, it all seemed so normal and, for a moment, she thought she could forget the last hour. She briefly admired Callon's muscular frame as he heaved a pile of logs to the centre of the clearing. Rine, his skill with fire evident, quickly got the flames going. How badly she wished to forget and carry on with their existence as it had been before. But she knew it was not to be as the mixed emotions of confusion, betrayal and fury broiled within her.

"What was that?" The words were so quiet that Dale surprised herself at her composure. But in the silence it was enough to make Callon and Rine whip around.

"Dale—you're back early…" Rhine said weakly. Callon eyed her closely.

"Don't fool with me." For a moment, her voice lost its edge. She regained her composure. "Bandying words with orcs. How far have you fallen?"

"I don't know what you mean." Callon's eyes were soft, but otherwise unreadable. He held out his calloused hand. "Come out of the shadows, Little Wolf."

Dale flinched at his nickname for her. She didn't move. "It is not I who is in the shadows."

Callon looked at her analytically, noticing the dirt that still grazed her knees. "How much did you see?"

"Enough."

The silence stretched out as Callon and Rine looked at each other, then Dale again. She had seen this so many times before, the strange way they seemed to be able to agree without needing to speak. She tensed. They crept closer, one on either side, and she edged into further into the circle to keep her distance.

"Where did you learn the tongue of Mordor, Callon?" His eyes widened, but once more he held out his hand.

"Dale, I..."

"It's not what you think," Rine burst out.

Dale gave a mirthless laugh. "You mean it doesn't look like you just gave information to orcs in exchange for a new pair of boots? It's beyond mercenary." She moved to the right. She struggled to form into words what she wanted to know. "But…why? Why not sell information to someone else?"

They continued this strange…dance; as Callon and Rine continually tried to manoeuvre her into a corner. Dale's eyes darted around the clearing, desperately looking for an escape route, yet unwilling to take her eyes off them for too long.

"The Dark Lord's power is growing," Callon replied. There was a light in them that she hadn't seen before. "We need to earn our place in the coming age of Darkness to survive."

"It's not guaranteed," Dale replied. She tried a new tact. "Please, don't do this. You may think that you are trying to survive, but you are breaking every code we stand for, everything we have fought for all these years."

Callon barked out a laugh, "Code? There is no code, not anymore. For how long have Ruénen skulked in the shadow of man? Our history, our culture, our pride has faded. In the new age, our race will rise under Sauron's nurturing care to take our rightful place in this world."

"And we will benefit profitably," Rine smirked.

Dale shook her head disbelievingly. How had she not seen? She stilled as another thought occurred to her.

"Where's Douka?"

Callon and Rine glanced at each other. Rine grinned. "We thought she was with you."

Dale smacked herself mentally. She should have kept her mouth shut.

"You will not join us then?" Callon demanded. They were now three metres from her.

"Never," Dale spat.

There was a moment of silence. Then Rine hissed, "Then you shall die."

Lord Elrond's face was thoughtful as Dale completed her story. "At that point we all shifted. I got away. but not without gaining a few scratches." She had nearly been shredded by the two larger male wolves. It had taken her far longer than she should have to arrive at Rivendell, the closest place she could think of to go, due to the healing process. "I landed a blow on Callon's face. He will be scarred for life." It was the only reason she had been able to escape. Rine would not chase after her; wolves did not abandon each other.

Lord Elrond was silent. He stroked his chin as his eyes gazed into the far distance. Dale couldn't tell if he was using his magic or just thinking. She began to fidget again as impatience gnawed at her. "So? Do you think you can help?"

Elrond shifted in his seat as his gaze returned to hers. "I need time, and you need rest. If you would, meet me tomorrow after the noon meal."

Dale stiffened, unused to taking orders. She nodded, muttering, "I suppose one more day will not make any difference. My very presence here has already forsaken a sacred rule."

Elrond's eyebrows rose. "Then why are you here?"

She thought of Callon and Rine, who had already succumbed to the ring's dark power. Occasionally they came across other werewolves, but it had never occurred to her how many might have sided with the Dark Lord. Dale was silent for a time as she considered the possibilities, the hopelessness of her own fate now that she revealed such secret information on the Ruénen. She glanced up at Elrond, who was watching her intently. "Because a lot of sacred rules have been broken already."

Her bones felt like they had the weight of the world upon her as she stood up. She bowed. "My lord."

* * *

As Dale shuffled through the corridors, she rounded a corner and collided with another body, flying to the floor. She hissed in pain as she landed on her side.

"Oh, I am so sorry," an elderly voice said. A knobbly hand was held out to her. Dale ignored it, pushing herself up with a scowl on her face. She glanced up to see an old man in grey garb with long grey hair, holding a staff. He hadn't fallen over. She eyed him warily as he bumbled on.

"Please do excuse me…" His voice trailed away as their eyes met. A light lit his eyes, as if he had just put together the pieces of a puzzle. He leaned forward slightly, his bushy brows nearly meeting as his brow furrowed. The moment dragged on, and Dale shifted uncomfortably.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?"

The old man startled. "No, no, I should hope not, for I certainly don't know you." With that, he whisked off, moving more briskly than she had ever seen a man of his age walk. Dale frowned after his retreating figure, but shrugged her shoulders, but then was painfully reminded of her aching body after the trying process of only semi-shifting. She shook her head and continued back to the room that had been allotted to her.

* * *

 **So...I've set the scene, there is a bit more scene setting to do in the next chapter, but then...lift off! I hope you enjoyed this, please let me know. I would love to hear what you think!**

 **Many thanks,**

 **Penlym**


	2. On Elves and Wolves

**Next chapter is up! I'm sorry it's a bit short, but I thought I'd give this its own chapter, then I can focus on moving the story forward afterwards! Thank you so much to those who have reviewed, it is lovely to here your thoughts. I forgot to disclaim any original LOTR characters - here it is! I don't even own Dale or the Ruénen, they just seemed to pop up and say hi one day and demand that I write about them!**

* * *

 **Chapter II: On Elves and Wolves**

The next day, when Dale knocked and poked her head in, Elrond was standing by the window, looking out over Rivendell. He held his hands behind his back and he stood completely still, almost in a trance, not even seeming to breath. "Lord Elrond?"

He shook himself and turned to her, motioning for her to sit. He was wearing a burgundy robe, and his hair was held back in the same style as yesterday: a plait on either side of his head which joined into one plait at the back.

She didn't bother herself with pleasantries. "What can you do?"

He acknowledged her urgency easily. "I am afraid very little. I am unable to give a purpose to my visions—I have no power over what they show me." Dale's face fell. "But I can advise you. You say your friend went missing _before_ your encounter with…Callon and Rine?"

The woman nodded.

"How do you know she has not joined them?"

"When I asked Callon and Rine where Douka was, they seemed surprised…they thought she was with me."

"But is there any indication as to whether she has or has not joined Sauron?" Elrond now moved to sit in his chair opposite her, leaning forward on his elbows.

"No I…I suppose not." Dale shrank away from the thought that she could be so easily deceived by her pack members. "You're saying I should be more cautious in my search."

"I cannot make your decisions for you…but yes, that is what I would do."

Dale pondered that for a moment. "I was getting supplies while Callon and Rine set up camp, and Douka was meant to be hunting for that night's meal." She rolled her eyes when Lord Elrond raised a narrow brow. "We're _wolves_ —it saves money. Douka could have been found by the orcs; she would have been overwhelmed and unable to escape." Dale refused to believe that Callon and Rine would kill another Ruénen, least of all Douka. "But I didn't smell any blood."

Now both of Elrond's eyebrows were raised, but he was nodding as if what Dale had said made sense. "Or could she have returned from hunting, found the orcs and run?"

Dale sighed, running a hand through her fringe. Her hair was tied back in its usual plait. "Yes, but then she would have tried to find me…it just doesn't make sense." Her head dropped into her hands, rubbing her eyes tiredly. She had now been in Rivendell for four days, but the recent events were haunting her through the night and her sleep was fitful.

"…Why not continue without her? Forget her, move on?" The elf was staring at her as he usually did—intently, studying her every movement.

Dale looked at him incredulously. "Never. I would never abandon a pack mate without knowing what had happened to them." The thought had never even occurred to her. It went against the grain of her very being. Her fight with Callon and Rine had been in self-defence—she had given them a chance to explain themselves, in the hope that it was all a mistake, but also because she had had absolute faith in them. This would have been the fifth year the four Ruénen travelled together, and that time had been enough for Dale to learn to trust them with her life and more—until all of about seven days ago. It had not been easy for her to completely abandon her faith in Callon and Rine. It made her even more desperate to find Douka, to reassure herself that everything was not crumbling down around her, that her family of the past five years had not just either betrayed her or disappeared for no apparent reason. She continued sharply, "Lord Elrond, I do not appreciate your probing me like this. I had hoped that the information you would gain from my story alone would be enough in exchange for advice on what to do, rather than testing the boundaries of my character as well."

The air seemed thick as Elrond stared at her in evaluation, then he stiffened and bowed his head in acknowledgement. "Please accept my apologies. It is very rare that I come across something that I know very little about." He paused, his fingers grazing the grain of the desk as he stared down at them. For the first time he seemed to hesitate. His hand made a fist which he rested on the table as he turned to looked up at Dale. "There is a council five days from hence. You might be interested in attending?"

Dale stared at him in some surprise. "What is being discussed?"

"I am afraid it is a matter of secrecy, but having heard your story, I think you might be interested in attending. A great decision hangs in the balance, and it will affect all of Middle-Earth. It would be a chance for your people to step forward, out of the shadows, to help shape the future of the world you live in."

Dale snorted. "You're beginning to sound like Callon."

Elrond frowned. "It might also be a chance for you to find out more what has happened to your friend."

"Thank you, Lord Elrond." Dale stood, and she noticed that Elrond stood with her, a new sign of respect that had not been present the day before. "I will consider it."

He opened the door to the corridor for her. _Wow, this really is my lucky day_ , Dale thought sardonically as she thanked him once more for his help. She continued through the corridors of Rivendell without interruption, deep in thought as she distractedly shuffled her feet along the floor. Perhaps she would go to the council…perhaps she wouldn't. She might be questioned for her presence there and, although she had revealed the existence of her race to the elves, she had no desire to fan the flames of gossip. The elves had shown an unnerving degree of fascination of her, but they were also discreet, and she trusted that they would attempt to conceal the Ruénen's existence for as long as possible. Even so, word would eventually spread. Furthermore, if what Elrond had said was true, and it did give Dale a chance to find Douka…she frowned; she did not understand how it could…

After she had reached the library—a luxury that she had been taking full advantage of—Dale had reached a decision. Wandering into the library, she nodded at some familiar faces, quietly walking along the shelves until she found what she was looking for. She picked out books on diplomacy.

* * *

 **The next chapter will be up in a few days. Please read and review, I'd love to know your ideas on the story so far, and if anyone has any suggestions for what could happen to Dale and the Ruénen, then let me know!**


	3. Lessons in Diplomacy

**Hi all, the next instalment has arrived! Thank you so much for the reviews so far and I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Lessons in Diplomacy**

When Dale arrived at the Council—having found the meeting room with some difficulty—she hovered in a room full of strangers, uncertain of what to do. She opted for standing at the edge of the room, content to observe the men, elves and dwarves gathered in small groups conversing quietly, along with a foreign smell of a creature she had never come by before. Their faces were solemn, knowing that this was a meeting of great import. Some glanced her way with puzzled frowns, but continued with their conversation. Their proud bearings and (mostly) refined speech, marked them as people of importance. The gathering of leaders of all the races who had joined to fight against Sauron made her even more curious as to the subject of the council. She noticed that mostly they stayed within groups of their race, although some made an effort with others. The ranger, for example, who, although smelling like a human, the wolf could distinctly scent the difference in his blood. Most humans' blood had a coppery, bitter smell; rangers smelled slightly sweeter. Currently the ranger was with a group of elves, listening to the conversation. Perhaps it was the wrinkles at his eyes, or the way the elves treated him almost as one of their own, but there was a wiseness to him, a sense of timelessness, that made Dale wonder how old he really was.

There was a huddle of men standing near her. One of them drained his goblet and held it out to her negligibly. She stared dumbfounded. He had shoulder-length red hair and stubble ringed his chin and upper lip. When she didn't take the cup, the man glanced at her with a frown. Dale recovered herself and plastered a sweet smile on her face. "I'm sorry, did you want me to spit in it?"

Disgruntled, the man turned to face her, but Elrond's timely appearance rescued the situation as he motioned for everyone to take their seats. She found herself sitting between the old man and the elves.

He began to explain the purpose of the council, and it did not surprise Dale that it's purpose was to address the threat of Mordor. Some were nodding their heads in agreement with his words.

A small, stout creature, whom the wolf identified the foreign small belonged to, stepped forward. As he placed an object on the central table, Dale felt the sense of a growing _presence_ , whispers brushing against the edge of her consciousness. Her eyes were riveted to the creature's hand, where the object lay behind it. The presence urged her to look, to _touch_. The creature pulled his hand away.

Something within Dale lurched. Her focus was completely on the ring, which seemed to be made from the purest gold and shone with an almost divine light. It was perfect.

Then it was all laid out to her: this ring would lead her to Douka, it would enable her people to rise to prominence for the first time. Its beauty would be used to unite her people; its power wielded to protect them.

She did not hear the protests of the man who had mistaken her for a maid, nor did she notice Gandalf speaking in the tongue of Mordor, although she felt a ripple of power emanate from the ring as he spoke it. The sight of the dwarf being flung across the room, which she might have found funny, escaped her, and the sinking tension between the elves and the dwarves went unheeded. She was being sucked into a void that she did not necessarily want to come out of. She continued to stare at the ring, it's gold shining so brightly…

A firm grip on her shoulder pulled Dale from her trance. She growled, snapping her teeth. Raised voices perforated her senses and she glanced sharply around. The old man whom she had bumped into a few days ago had leant on her shoulder to get up, but as soon as she noticed this he was walking away, his own voice joining the growing argument. She bared her fangs at him which, although human sized, were sharper than average. Her senses burned. Dale glanced at the ring again, but looked away, shying away from the effect it had had on her before.

There was now an empty space between her and the short creature. It stood up, crying, "I will take it!"

The woman had no idea what he was talking about, but the shouting was making her already-sensitive ears begin to burn, and she knew that if she did not put a stop to this the tender strings of control she had left would snap.

"Silence!" She barked, in time for the creature to cry out once more, "I will take it!" in the ensuing quiet.

"I will take the ring to Mordor," he continued. "Though…I do not know the way."

Dale watched, deep in thought, as members of the council volunteered to help. She knew, instinctively, that this was the ring of Sauron, the One Ring, and from that it the purpose of the council became clear. That the creature, who seemed to spearhead this movement despite his seeming insignificance, was the first to volunteer showed tremendous courage, she noted. She shook her head at the impossible odds.

Yet she also noticed the way that, despite this, the common purpose of destroying the ring seemed to unite these very different races who only a few moments ago had been arguing.

"What say you, Dale?" Elrond's question interrupted her thoughts and the woman glanced up from her brooding. Five of the council stood beside the creature, watching her expectantly.

"I see your purpose in summoning me to this council. You think that, if Callon and Rine are seeking this ring, perhaps Douka is seeking it, too? You think that if not, it is likely that she is dead, and that there is no point to my search." Dale paused, a wry smile twisting the corner of her lips. "Perhaps you also think that my…skill set will be helpful on the quest."

Elrond inclined his head.

One of the men stepped forward. "What does a woman know of this matter?"

There was silence as the party glanced back at Dale for her response. It was the same one who had mistaken her for a maid. Dale stood up to her full height, which was tall for a woman, although no taller than the men standing before her. She eyed him slowly, from his face, to his shoulder-length hair, down his body, taking in his leather jerkin fitting tightly across his broad chest and expensive, though well-used, clothes, all the way down his muscular legs to his boots. She sauntered forward, her gaze travelling upwards, and by the time she stood before him, she looked back at his face. His eyes scorched. She very deliberately raised one eyebrow. "What does a man know of this matter?"

The tension was thick as they continued to glare at each other. Dale felt the corner of her lips twitch, knowing she had caught the upper hand. His gaze flickered to catch the movement, but immediately returned to her face.

The old man cleared his throat. "I think that there is more to this young woman than meets the eye."

Dale stepped back and nodded to him in thanks. She cast her eyes over the motley group, who returned her gaze with equal curiosity. She came to a decision. "I am Dale, daughter of Hane of the Ruénen. I will run with you…Frodo, not only to find my friends, but to see this quest to it's fruition." She bowed deeply, a sense of the importance of the moment overcoming her.

That was the moment when more small creatures leapt from the bushes, announcing their participation in the quest.

The following weeks were spent preparing for the quest, and much of Dale's time was spent with the hobbits (which she struggled to pronounce at first, her accent thickening when she tried to pronounce the 't' and the 's' together), advising them on what to pack and getting to know them. The latter was the same for other members of the fellowship, although Gimli's patronising attitude and Boromir's icy treatment of her grated on Dale's nerves. She also spent much time in the library, reading about their route and, out of a vain interest, finding out what was written about the Ruénen. It pleased her pride that very little but story and myth was known of them.

So it was that when the time came, Dale was sorry to leave Rivendell. She had dreaded arriving and she had dreaded leaving. But the prospect of being out in the open country, bare to the elements, appealed to her, for her skin was beginning to itch. The wolf within her was growing restless.

* * *

 **What do you think? Please R &R! The next chapter will be posted sometime next week.**


End file.
